Sunlight Clasps the Earth
by WhyAye
Summary: What might have happened in Moonbeams after Laura's party if the uniformed officers had declined to drive Lewis and Hathaway home from the party. Lewis/Hobson implied. New 5th chapter for less confusion I hope.
1. Chapter 1

The Inspector

From the throbbing pain behind his eyeballs, he knew he should not have had so much champagne. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and the taste was a combination of dragon breath and barroom floor. Another hour or so in bed would help diminish the effects, surely? He groaned to himself as the knowledge that he was supposed to go to work this morning crawled to the front of his aching brain and then collapsed like a mortally wounded soldier. No lingering, then.

He tried to recall at what point in the evening he should have known enough to start drinking coffee. The harder he tried to pinpoint the moment, the more he realized most of what happened after the two PCs refused to drive him and his sergeant home was blank. Nor could he recall how he eventually got home and got himself to bed. He was definitely getting too old for this.

But he had been uncomfortable at the noisy party, and the champagne had helped him relax. And when she kissed his cheek, he became completely unnerved. He self-administered more fizz in response. Stupid, really. For all he knew, he had made a complete fool of himself. Very stupid.

He needed to get moving. What time was it, anyway? He slowly opened his eyes, the sand behind his lids abrading his already-tender eyeballs. He found he was looking at the back of a woman's head. _Her_ head. His eyes flew open wide now, and he cast them around the room with growing alarm. Not his room. Oh, no. He could tell from the décor and effects that _this_ room was not his. This was _her_ bedroom. And he was in it. In her bed. And, as he realized with a jolt, he was stark naked under the bedclothes.

In full panic, he tried to scrape up the dried scum of last night from his memory. God, what had he done? Did she put him here when he passed out, undressing him for his own comfort? Had he crawled here, stripped off his clothes thinking he was home, and she found him later? Or had something more . . . _involved _occurred?

Then she let out a sigh and began to stir. He slammed his lids shut and lay perfectly still, trying to steady his breathing and keep it slow and deep, feigning sleep. _Dear God, I swear I will never drink alcohol again._


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor

The first thing she did was pinch the place above her nose where her eyebrows neared each other. Then she pushed the skin on her forehead upward, and rubbed each eye. This was one of the more serious hangovers she had ever experienced. Had she really had that much to drink? It wasn't cheap champagne, so it must have been the quantity. She definitely was getting too old for this. She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. A quiet, rhythmic whooshing sound made her turn her head to the other side. It was _him_, asleep in her bed, breathing deeply.

Her eyes widened in alarm. She absolutely could not recall why he was there. In fact, she could barely recall him being at her party at all. He had greeted her, and was there when they brought in the cake, but then he seemed to disappear. She remembered wondering at one point if he was trying to avoid her. Had she scared him off with that kiss? But he was here now, and shirtless at least, from what she could see. As for herself, she realized with a shock that she had nothing on at all. Lord, what had happened here?

She slid to the edge of the mattress, checking the bed behind and under her as she moved off it. Not wet. Nor were there any unexpected fluids anywhere on or oozing from her body. A wave of relief washed over her. At the very least, they hadn't engaged in completed, unprotected sex. _Was she really thinking about sex with him? _She needed to sort out who had done what here last night. She sounded like her mother as she told herself this was what she got for not monitoring her alcohol intake.

Making every effort to not wake him, she felt under her pillow and found the oversized t-shirt she usually slept in. She slithered into it and crawled from the bed, getting fresh clothes from her dresser as silently as possible. Then she practically fled from the room, shutting herself in the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. It was there that she noticed, with mounting panic, a used condom in the trash.


	3. Chapter 3

The Sergeant

A little tough getting up this morning, but not as bad as it sometimes could be. He was glad he left the party when he did; things were definitely beginning to deteriorate. One couple was practically having it away in the kitchen, and he had seen another pair disappear into the ground-floor bathroom, resulting in a serious queue at the home's second toilet. Although he had not arrived at the party alone, he ended up leaving that way, calling a taxi after unsuccessfully looking everywhere for his governor.

He wondered vaguely what had happened there. They had planned to pretty much stick together. Both were party wallflowers anyway, and among the medicos they really stuck out. For a while, they thought they had found a way to gracefully extract themselves, but then the uniform officers, who were taking care of a problem at a neighbor's house, declined to ferry them home. "Not part of our duties," they had said, grinning. Aggravating.

Still, he was able to shower and dress in good time, managing one cup of coffee and two cigarettes before leaving his flat. But he hoped the day would not be too strenuous, and swallowed a couple aspirin to ease his head.


	4. Chapter 4

The Inspector

As soon as she left the bedroom, he was wide awake and sitting up. Where were his clothes? He saw a tangled pile near the foot of the bed, much of which looked familiar. Before he got up from the bed, he felt it to see if it was wet, and was relieved to find it was not. So they hadn't just had it away in bed. Was that assurance that they hadn't done _anything_ untoward? He didn't carry any condoms; he couldn't imagine needing one at this point in his life. But what about her? He pulled on his boxers and trousers, again not finding any signs of unusual activity. He slid open the drawer of her nightstand. No condoms there. But that didn't mean she didn't have them somewhere.

He was still swaying quite a bit. Still having trouble focusing. How much did he drink last night? He could account for maybe six glasses of champagne. Which probably meant several more he did not remember. No way could he drive.

As he put on his shirt, he tried to analyze the significance of his clothes being left in a mess. He could rule out her playing the professional caregiver, shepherding him to the comfort of a bed after detachedly removing his clothes and folding them neatly. But that still left a lot of possibilities. He had been drunkenly floundering, unable to manage more than getting everything off. Or, she had taken advantage of his inebriation, struggling by herself to get his swaying form undressed and then doing with him who knew what. Or, and this one worried him the most, they were in the heat of passion, barely able to strip down fast enough to satisfy the urgency of their desire.

_Was he really thinking about sex with her? _He deliberately removed the thought from his brain. He had never thought of her that way before, he was pretty sure. And he was certain (or was he?) that she did not think of him in that way, either. So that could not be what happened.

He checked and saw his mobile was still functional. He placed a call with the click of a few buttons.

"Yeah, hi, I was wondering if you could pick us up this morning? Only, I think I may be over the limit. I'm still pretty sauced from last night."

"No problem, Sir. I'll be right there."

"Erm, the thing is . . . I'm not at home. I guess I passed out at the party. So I'm at her house, okay?"

"No problem, Sir."


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor

When he had finished in the bathroom, he joined her in the kitchen. She offered him tea and toast, making every effort to simply appear pleasant, and trying her best to read his demeanor. His eyes were red and bleary, but he smiled a little when he accepted her offer of what would have to pass for breakfast.

But she could learn nothing more from his expression. She decided to more actively investigate.

"I find it a bit off-putting when men don't wrap up condoms when they're done with them." She saw his eyes flare a moment.

"I, erm . . . don't really have a lot of experience with that sort of thing."

Now what did _that_ mean?

Suddenly, he turned to the window, relief crossing his face. A familiar car had pulled up, engine running. He took one last swallow of tea.

"I've got to go. I'll, erm, call you later, okay?" He hurried from the room and out to the waiting car.

She should have just asked him outright. But it seemed rude to not remember at all, and if something had actually happened—"That was really fantastic last night, wasn't it?" "Was it? I don't remember it at all"—would be a bit of a crusher for a man who already had almost no ego to speak of.

She returned to the bathroom to get some ibuprofen. On impulse, she used a clean tissue to pick up the condom, went back to the kitchen, and placed it in a bag. She folded the bag closed and slipped it into her pocket. _If he won't tell me anything, maybe this will_.


	6. Chapter 6

The Sergeant

They drove, for the most part, in silence. The absence of an offered explanation, combined with the inspector's close-mouthed aspect, led to only one conclusion: something had happened between him and her; most likely, something physically intimate. It would be about time. Always so many sparks between those two, but never a fire.

His boss squirmed. Finally: "I know you're dying to ask, but don't bother. I won't tell you. _Can't_ tell you, in fact. I can't remember a damned thing about last night. At least, not that part. All I know is when I woke up we were both in her bed, and I was starkers. I think she was, too." He looked hopelessly at his sergeant. "For all I know, I could have promised to marry her. I can't very well tell her I don't remember anything this morning."

"Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Marry her."

"Don't be daft, man. She's not the type to marry."

He let the evasion go. The older man probably didn't know the answer himself.

Later, he tried to work on an unfinished report but focus was impossible with the finger-drumming and fidgeting going on at the other desk. At last he offered to have a friendly chat with the good doctor and try to ascertain her view of the previous night's events. This proposal seemed to provide considerable relief, so he phoned the morgue with an excuse for a visit, and then headed over immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

The Doctor

It sounded like an excuse and, when he dithered about so, she was certain that it was. He had come for information, all right, but not about the victim.

"Why did you _really_ want to see me?" When no answer was forthcoming, she knew. "If he hasn't told you, I'm not going to tell you, either."

"But he _has_ told me. At least, as much as he remembers. He says his memory might not be too good on account of all the champagne. He was concerned that he might have done something you perceived as . . . erm, _ungentlemanly_ and that his attentions might have been unwelcome."

"Oh, did I give him that impression?"

"He wasn't too clear. But he's anxious about it."

She was frustrated by his intentional euphemisms. It certainly seemed as if he was in on what had happened. She decided the best way to learn what he knew was to be frank about her lack of recollection, and beg him as a friend to fill in the blanks of her memory of the evening.

"Look. I'll be perfectly candid with you. I woke up this morning and found myself naked with him in my bed, also probably naked. I don't have the slightest idea how that happened or what we did last night. I can only identify what I'm quite certain did not happen, thankfully, but that still leaves a lot that can't be ruled out."

She was not pleased by his look of grim amusement, and persisted: "What did he tell you about what happened?"

He twisted a smile. "He remembers as much--or I should say, as little--as you do. And he's worried about the used condom in your bathroom."

With the advantage of being in a forensic lab, she had already run a DNA test on it, and satisfied herself that, regardless of who had been inside it, it had not been inside her. "That had nothing to do with me, I can tell him that much. If he'll give me a swab, I can tell him if it had anything to do with him, too."

"I think he might appreciate that. Any other clues he might have missed?"

She shook her head. "About the only activity that I can confidently rule out is actually, erm . . . ringing the bell." He smothered his laughter at her metaphor.

Maybe if they put their heads together, they could reconstruct more of the evening. Most likely, they had both just fallen into the nearest bed and felt familiar enough with each other to have no inhibitions about getting comfortable.

But when she reflected on this to the sergeant, he smiled gently. "You're probably right about that. Funny, though. You _both_ thought it was entirely possible you'd engaged in much more than that. Why do you think that would be?"

The answer, which she kept to herself, made her both happy and, upon reflection, a little sad.


End file.
